


Bill Denbrough and Richie Tozier Get Shaken

by gracessence



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: College, Gen, Literature, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracessence/pseuds/gracessence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been ten years since Bill Denbrough's last encounter with "It". Ben, Richie, Beverly, Stan, and Eddie have moved out of Derry leaving him on his own. But when he bumps into Richie Tozier one day at school, what happens after brings back more than they wanted. Will Bill Denbrough beat the Devil again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bill Denbrough and Richie Tozier Get Shaken

1

It had been ten years since that summer of '58 when Bill Denbrough and Richie Tozier had barely escaped their deaths together. Bill thought about that day constantly, as if it were some reoccurring daydream. He never wanted to believe it really happened. Imagine that headline:  _Two boys escape death thanks to their bike!_  Bill stifled a laugh and raised a hand over his mouth.  _If Richie were here right now, he'd probably mock the news reporters in one of those ol' voices he used to do,_  he thought. The laughter faded as he remembered Richie Tozier had left Derry just months after their  _brush with death_. They said they'd write each other, but they hardly ever did and Bill never took it personally. He just accepted that they grew apart, it's not like he ever spoke to Mike Hanlon, or even Beverly Marsh. They all found some way out of Derry. And yes, he was green with envy about it, but he didn't hold it against them.

Bill went to North West Regional College where he took a creative writing course. It wasn't anything special, but it took his mind off of things he didn't want to remember. Actually, he forced himself not to remember, because he knew if he did it would come back and haunt him for the rest of his life. And this time he didn't have Richie Tozier, Berverly Marsh, Mike Hanlon, Stanley Uris, or Ben Hanscom to help him. Not that he couldn't handle it on his own, but The Losers' Club was always better as a group. And as much as he repressed his memories of that awful summer, he never thought he'd ever have to face that  _thing_  ever again.

 

 

2

Class was quiet as usual. Everyone wrote for the most part. The sound of graphite on paper was something Bill had gotten used to. There was the odd occasion of pencils hitting the desks, pages turning, pages crumbling and being tossed in the trash, but other than that it was quiet. It was peaceful. Bill thought it as the only time he could relax.

Sometimes the teacher would get him to read his writing out loud, and at first he hesitated. His stutter had gotten better over the years, but he still had a tough time keeping it under control in school. The first time he had read out loud, he was sure someone would call out "Stuttering Bill!" and that's when the memories of Henry Bowers would start, and maybe then he'd see those bright balloons floating up by the window, and he'd ask to be excused and the teacher would turn to him with that eerie voice calling him  _Billy Boy_. And he'd run home and lock himself in his room. But that never happened. No one called him out for his stuttering, he wasn't even sure if he  _had_  stuttered the first time. Every memory seemed to fade quickly in Derry.

As soon as class ended he grabbed his bag and ran out the door. Always in a hurry, he was. He never stopped to talk to anyone, he didn't want to risk pulling anyone else in to his nightmare. He had lost enough friends from it, he didn't want to lose more. So he ran with papers in his hand and his bag unzipped as he tried stuffing his work into it, he turned one corner, just before reaching the main door when,  _BAM!_. Bag flipped in the air and papers sprawled out on the floor. And there in the middle of it all lied Bill Denbrough. He had fallen back and hit his head against the floor. He could've sworn he saw stars dancing around in front of him, along with the bottoms of shoes that walked over him.

"Damn, kid! Watch where you're fucking going!" A familiar voice called out and Bill's forehead scrunched up, folding in all weird places. He rubbed the back of his head, sat up.

"S-Sorry. Didn't see y-you th-there."  _Damn it,_  he thought.  _There's that stutter._  he sighed and went on to picking up his papers.

"Oh my—looks like Big Bill finally grew up!"

Bill's eyes shot up and he dropped the papers back onto the ground.  _No way,_ was his first thought, followed by a,  _how?_  and,  _Richie Tozier, everybody!_  He stood up straight and turned around, hoping that he was wrong, because if Richie Tozier were here, then so was everyone else, he thought. Because that's how it was. But when he turned to him, he saw the same red hair Richie always had, but he had lost the glasses, and Bill wanted to hug him, he thought he would after so many years, but he just stood with his jaw on the floor.

Richie chuckled and picked up Bill's bag. "Here," he said, handing it back to him. Bill gawked at him. "You gonna stare at me all day, or what?"

Bill picked his jaw up and grabbed his bag. He wanted to ask him so many things. Why didn't he write to him anymore? Why did he move in the first place? Why was he back? He shuddered at the last question and pushed it aside. He couldn't ask that, he didn't want to know.

"Thanks, Trashmouth."

Richie grinned and patted him on the shoulder. "Come on, I'll help you clean this up."

 

 

3

They had walked for what felt like ages. Richie had his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans and Bill stood next to him, clutching onto the straps of his bag, like it was about to fall off his back or something. Richie kicked at a loose pebble and Bill kicked it back. They went like this for a few blocks until one of them kicked the pebbled down a sewer grate and they both shot a look at each other.

"You wanna go get it, Bill?" Richie said and shoved him down the street.

Bill shook his head. "Nuh-uh. You go get it, Rich."

They both stared at the grate each knowing what the other was waiting for. Then that image of Georgie from the photo album came to mind and Bill found his hand shaking. The wind picked up and a whistling blew past them. Richie grabbed Bill by the back of shirt and pulled him down the street. They ran until the whistling stopped, until their legs burned and then their legs tangled with each other and they both skidded along the asphalt. Bill opened his eyes, not even knowing when he closed them, and he found himself on top of Richie who was sprawled out on the street. He quickly got up off him and looked around, and his eyes set on a street post. He squinted at the sign and as soon as he read it, his heart sunk and his blood drained from his body.

"R-Ruh-Richie," he called trying to get his attention. He reached down and tugged at his shirt, shaking him awake. "Guh-Get u-uh-up, you s-son of a b-buh-bitch!"

Richie groaned and opened his eyes. "You know, Bill. Swearing loses its punch when you stutter like that."

Bill frowned and pulled him up to his feet then pointed at the street sign.

"Read i-it."

And Richie did, he read it and his face turned a green-yellow.

They were on Twenty-nine Neibolt Street. The street they had escaped their deaths ten years prior. Richie and Bill stood in the middle of the street, baffled. They both spun around, both looking at the houses. No one was outside. School had just finished, there should've been kids running home, parents driving around. But there was nothing but silence and that whistling.

"R-Richie, how the fuck did w-we get h-h-here?"

Richie heard him, but he couldn't find his words. He was too busy looking around for a clown, or was it a werewolf? He couldn't remember anymore, it was all a blur.

"I knew I shouldn't have come back, Bill. I kept telling my parents, it's no good there in Derry, but they wouldn't listen to me, Bill, they wouldn't." Tears started streaming down his face and Bill frowned. He grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him down the street.

They walked in circles. It was like no matter where they went, which way they turned, they always came back to Twenty-nine Neibolt Street. Richie pulled away from Bill and sat on the curb with his knees pulled tight to his chest and his arms wrapped around them.

Bill shrugged off his bag and sat down next to him.

"W-Why'd you come back here, Rich?" He asked, toying at the loop on the back of his bag.

Richie shrugged and wiped his cheek with his palm. "I didn't want to. I told 'em, Bill! I swear to God, I told 'em not to bring me back. And the thing about it is, I had forgotten almost everything about this place, even you."

Bill frowned and looked at him. "Is th-that why y-yuh-you s-stopped writing?"

Richie turned to him, his eyes wide and he shook his head.

"I don't know what happened to me, Bill. I just forgot. I didn't want to forget about you, I didn't think I would," he buried his face in his knees.

"It's okay, Rich. I don't blame you."

Richie looked up at him and grinned. "Yeah? Who d'you blame?"

 _Billy Boy!_  Came a screeching voice, worse than nails on a chalk board, and they both looked around.

They felt like little boys again, but this time he didn't have Quick Silver, he only had Richie and himself.

"Ruh-Ruh-Ruh—"

Richie grabbed him off the curb before he could get a word out. They ran down the street, turned down another, and kept running. They wanted out of that haunted street, out of this town. They didn't stop even when their legs went numb, they wouldn't risk it and as they ran, the further they got, Richie stifled a laugh and Bill turned to him.

"W-Why're you laughing, Rich?"

He smiled big and said, "Good thing Eddie Kaspbrak isn't here. We would've lost him by now!"

They both looked at each other then burst into laughter. And they finally stopped and fell onto the side walk to catch their breath. Richie looked up at the street sign and read it.

"I think we're safe now," he said and pointed up for Bill to see.

"Yeah, we're safe, Rich," he said, bent over with his hands on his knees. "Promise me something?"

"Yeah?"

"Get outta town, and never look back," he said. Richie laughed and put his arm around him.

"Oh, I can't do that, Big Bill!"

"I-I muh-mean it, R-Ruh-Richie!"

Richie frowned, and dropped his arm from around him. He looked down the street and thought about what just happened then looked back at Bill. He could've sworn, just for a minute, he saw Bill as the little boy he was that summer. He saw the tears staining his cheeks and the fear in his eyes. He nodded.

"Yeah, alright. I won't come back, but I don't wanna forget you again, Bill," he said. His voice faded.

Bill nodded. "It's better you forget about everything than get killed here, and anyway, maybe we'll all have to come back here one day." His stutter had gone.

Richie looked up at him. "Yeah, I guess we have that to look forward to, in a strange way."

Bill smiled.

"Yeah, I guess so."


End file.
